


Upgrade

by msgenevieve



Category: Doctor Who/La Femme Nikita (crossover fic)
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-19
Updated: 2009-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-04 15:01:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msgenevieve/pseuds/msgenevieve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Birkoff is perfectly happy being a teenage geek, but sometimes he wonders if clothes <i>do</i> make the man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Upgrade

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is an odd little thing, I don't mind telling you. I actually started it last year after a 'crossover' challenge on the [FFMB](www.voy.com/133091/), but never finished it.

~*~

 

"Meet you in the café in ten minutes, he says. Just seein' a man about a dog, he says." The girl checked her watch a third time, then continued muttering into her teacup. "One of these days, Doctor, you're gonna take me some place where there are no men _and_ no bleedin' dogs."

Sitting at the next table, Birkoff peered at her over the top of his laptop. She wasn't a local, not with that thick English accent – what the hell was a _caff_, anyway? – and her clothes weren't exactly Parisian chic, not to mention the fact that her bright blonde hair may have looked as though it hadn't had seen a hairbrush for at least a day. The face beneath the overly-generous layer of makeup, however, was quite pretty, despite the heavy frown that tugged at her dark eyebrows.

The small café was crowded, the tables close together - it was not the most ideal place to observe someone discreetly. The girl, obviously sensing she was being watched, turned her head and returned his gaze steadily. Startled by the directness of her dark brown gaze, Birkoff blurted out the first words that came into his head.

"The medical centre is round the corner." She raised her eyebrows, and a flush of heat traveled up the back of his neck. "Sorry," he said, scrambling for something sensible to say. "I thought I heard you say something about a doctor."

"I did," she muttered, casting a stern eye towards the door of the café, "but I'm pretty sure he's not hangin' about the medical centre." When she glanced back at him, her expression softened, the beginnings of a smile curving her generous mouth. "Actually, I'm just waitin' for a friend, and he's not too flash when it comes to bein' on time." As though suddenly amused by her own words, she grinned to herself, showing off both a healthy set of startlingly white teeth and a dimple in her cheek. "I'm Rose, by the way," she offered brightly.

He blinked as quite pretty became startlingly attractive. "Birkoff. Uh, can I buy you a coffee?" he heard himself saying in a wobbly voice, then gave himself a mental shake and added a hasty, "Just while you're waiting for your friend, I mean."

She tapped her short fingernails on the rim of her teacup and shook her head. "Thanks, but I'm still workin' my way through my Darjeeling."

His disappointment barely had time to register before she glanced again towards the door of the café. This time, though, her eyes grew wide, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree. "Well, it's about time you got here," she teased over Birkoff's shoulder.

A male voice replied casually in an accent even thicker than Rose's. "You know how it is. See a man about a dog, run into a Spot of bother." There was a pause, during which Birkoff felt the skin on back of his neck begin to burn. "You seem to have found a way to pass the time."

Birkoff stared down at his laptop, having already decided it was in his best interests to pretend to be invisible. He didn't need to be a Level Five Op to know that the owner of that gruff voice was staring at the back of his head. Of course, he thought vaguely, if he _were_ a Level Five Op, he wouldn't have sat with his back to the door.

Rose gave her friend a look that managed to be both indulgent and annoyed, and Birkoff was oddly reminded of Nikita rolling her eyes at Michael. "Well, my friend's here," she said needlessly, flashing Birkoff a quick smile as she rose to her feet and grabbed a battered looking demin jacket from the back of her chair. "Maybe next time, yeah?"

Still feeling the weight of the other man's stare, Birkoff forced himself to count to ten, then turned around to watch as they strolled away from the café. Her friend was tall and thin with closely cropped hair and - to Birkoff's critical eye - huge ears, wearing a black leather jacket that looked almost too big for his frame. The girl – Rose - playfully punched the man's arm, then took his outstretched hand, bumping her shoulder against his as the sound of their mingled laughter carried on the air.

Birkoff squinted against the mid-morning sunlight streaming through the café windows, his last impression that of a bright blonde head resting against a black leather-clad shoulder. He looked down at his pale green anorak, then grimaced. Even when they were hot and heavy, Gail had never _once_ looked at him the way that girl – Rose, he corrected himself - had looked at her friend. _Her friend who has a huge nose and even huger ears and looked old enough to be her father_, he added sourly. _What is it with girls and leather jackets? _

He watched the oddly-matched couple slip into the crowd, then gave his childish anorak another disdainful look. Shrugging it off his shoulders, he dropped it under the table at his feet, then reached for his laptop. If he finished this game quickly, he could make a retail pit stop on the way back to Section. Never mind about Nikita and Michael - if a weird looking guy like that could get a girl like Rose, then it was definitely time for an wardrobe upgrade.

 

~*~*~*~


End file.
